


hearts are fragile toys

by duster



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, Post-Undertale Neutral Route - Exiled Queen Ending, Romance, its there i swear, who am i kidding its mostly angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-30 11:58:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10876317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duster/pseuds/duster
Summary: Toriel knew what grieving looked like (after all, she would be an expert in the matter).





	hearts are fragile toys

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JDylah_da_Kylah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JDylah_da_Kylah/gifts).



> it's been a year and a half how am i still here
> 
> boy howdy this has been a long time coming kids. i apologize profusely to jdylah for the long wait, i hope in the end it was worth it? the prompt i used was from them, in the form of a song by Oingo Boingo called ["Just Another Day."](http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/oingoboingo/justanotherday.html) take a look at those lyrics because dang if that isnt a good prompt for sad undertale angst fic. i figured it's worth mentioning even if i didn't really stay true to the lyrics, i guess part of me just really wanted to explore the 'exiled queen' ending despite everyone having already done that. whoops.
> 
> also worth mentioning: i used an idea from myrobotlandlord's [phenomenal art](http://myrobotlandlord.tumblr.com/post/157191034051/i-found-the-sad-sketches-from-this-post) because i couldn't help it. it was just....the right amount of sad that i could use.
> 
> anyways thank you for the wonderful fic you've been writing jdylah!! your writing continues to be a huge inspiration for me <3

Toriel has seen a lot of grief in her life but it seems like the world doesn’t think she’s seen enough. Everywhere she looks now she sees a monster with the same slumped posture; the same empty gaze; the same weight of death on their shoulders. It has coated the Underground in a fog of depression, one not so easily lifted.

Yes, she knows what grief looks like (after all, she would be an expert in the manner).

Since the human child fell and left, the Underground has been at a standstill. Undyne took the throne with the support of the people and while she vehemently called for retribution there wasn’t much more that she could do than scream at the barrier. So, the priorities were shifted, and the mourning began. A process that many monsters had yet to be shaken from.

Despite all of Undyne’s strong words, the Underground is broken and fearful. They are left to pick up what they can and rebuild, but with more hopelessness than they ever had before. After all, not only had they lost their king (their hope) but the souls they had were gone. They had nothing to look toward.

But Toriel did her best to not involve herself in the manners of the Underground. At least, not the entirety of it. There weren’t many who were in support of her, after all. It wasn’t worth fighting back against it either. Those days were gone. Now, she tended to those she could. Those who returned to the Ruins once more. A small, motley crowd of froggits, loox, whimsum, moldsmals, and vegetoids. (She tried not to think about why every single monster that lived in the Ruins were still there with her. She tried not to think about how her child had not hurt any one of them).

But those residents of the Ruins weren’t the only ones to follow her into her exile.

She thought a lot about Sans. She liked to think that was normal; it was odd having another live in her home with her. She wasn’t used to occupying the same space as another. There were times she was startled by the sight of him in her recliner by the fire. But that wasn’t really what caused her to think about him.

She knew what grieving looked like.

When he said that he wanted to go with her she was delightfully surprised. The offer was kind and he said he would like a change in scenery, but it took the hours from walking to the Ruins from New Home to realize it was odd. A large part of her was so desperate to have company and to not be alone in her processing. She didn’t know how she would’ve handled those first few days back in the Ruins without Sans. But that was just it; the first few days were overwhelming because she was trying to come to terms with what her child did. It wasn’t something she could shy away from. But to know that the child she held hands with, the child she tucked into bed, the child who refused again and again to lay a finger on her was the same child to kill so many helpless monsters… (And perhaps that was it. Without guidance, the child didn’t know what to do. She dismissed the idea of going with them, and this was the result.)

It had only been a few days and she was still wrapped in thought about it all. Her normal cheer was lost now and though she put up a valiant effort at joking with Sans and baking and gardening she could not get those thoughts out of her mind. She wasn’t yet out of this fog either, but Sans was becoming more and more an addition to her tumultuous thoughts. He hadn’t grabbed anything from his home in Snowdin. He didn’t take time to say goodbye to anyone. He was stuck in a haze frequently in conversation and always seemed to be around before she was awake. She honestly wondered if he was ever sleeping what with the constant exhausted look to his gaze. He still refused to stay in her home.

After a week of half-hearted processing on her end and the back-and-forth of Sans living in her home she finally decided she had enough.

It was early one morning when she heard Sans arrive (there was always a distinctive sound that predicted his arrival. She was certain it was his magic but unsure about it’s appearance). He came up the stairs from her basement with a weary walk, as if each step was just too much. With her hands on her hips and her mind focused she stood before him with her “mom-glare” ( _that had been coined by Chara_ -)

“Oh, did I leave a whoopee cushion behind?” he offered the joke weakly, knowing she would not be distracted but giving an attempt anyway.

“Sans, do you or do you not want to stay in this house with me?”

He balked, giving off a look that probably meant fear or guilt- she had yet to read that particular face yet.

“Wha- of course I do, Tori.”

She nodded at his answer. “Good. Now go gather your things and move them into the room beside mine- it is empty save for some stray items. I expect you to be back by noon for lunch at the latest,” she turned around before pausing and giving him a warm smile. “Please, make yourself at home.”

She felt good leaving it at that. She explained her intentions, she understands his, and now perhaps they will have a more stable routine. Perhaps with him moved in she will worry less about him (she doubts that’s at all true).

Her doubts did not go unfounded. He returned right around noon with a single box of items. It did not look particularly heavy, nor was it filled to the brim. Just a small box of things. She let her mind ponder what he would possibly find important enough to bring to her home in that small box of items. Possibly a joke book or two, maybe a collection of whoopee cushions? While humorous to wonder, she didn’t think that those thoughts were accurate in any way. And though she very much wanted to see what he had carried in, she knew to leave these things private.

Odder still, all Sans did was place the box in “his” room (it had never really been anyone else’s, she supposed. No one had stayed long enough.) He came out of the room seconds later for lunch, with no intent to open his box.

Though she didn’t want to admit it, this bothered her. It was like a direct metaphor to Sans’ entrance into her home; he came with his thoughts and life and experiences yet refused to unpack them. He rarely spoke of himself and seemed entirely occupied by Toriel’s own habits and aspects of life. Toriel was partially to blame, however, as she shied away from asking very personal questions of him. She was far too afraid of starting a conversation she didn’t know how to finish.

But now Sans was living with her. Now Sans was around her all the time. They both seemed content on staying within the Ruins (though Toriel wasn’t sure what Sans’ reasoning was). They had a lot of time on their hands to do mundane and menial things like bake or read or talk about the unemptied box in Sans’ room. So, she pushed her own thoughts aside and decided she would ask one morning.

“I remember telling you to bring some things over from your home, correct?”

They were baking, as they often did since they were lacking in activities to occupy themselves. Though, it was more like Toriel was baking and Sans watched attentively as she kneaded the dough to another pie from the kitchen table. Not that he didn’t help ever, she was slowly teaching him how to bake a pie, after all.

The question seemed to catch him off guard though his eyes seemed trained on her movements as she continued to knead the dough into submission.

“Yeah, brought some stuff over,” he said without changing from his pensive state.

“Why is it that I have never seen any of those items around our home?” The ‘our’ was still something that struggled to come out of her mouth, but she was training herself to say it around Sans as a way of reinforcing his place in Toriel’s life.

His eyes flicked up to her face, even though she kept her eyes focused on the dough in her hands. She could feel his discomfort.

“Just haven’t gotten to it, I guess.”

She turned her head slightly towards him as she replied, “if you would like to, it would be nice to see my home become yours.”

She waited for his response but he seemed lost in thought. The silence grew between them for a second too long and she pushed her curiosity aside as she patted her hands on her apron in finality. With a smile, she drew Sans’ attention.

“Would you like to help me put the pie together?”

And with that the discussion was put aside and the pair carefully constructed a blackberry pie (with only minimal amounts of punning).

After she had asked him as directly as she could, she concluded that this was a question she would not ever find an answer to. She did not want to pry answers from him, so she left it at that, supposing that it wasn’t worth uncovering things he clearly wanted to keep covered.

But it seemed her inquiry did hold some weight.

 _She should have known, she should have known_ \- was the mantra in her head when she stepped into the doorway of ( ~~the child’s~~ ) Sans’ room. It was ringing in her ears, giving sound to the silent scene before her eyes, one she had no place seeing (but she could not help wondering-)

He was kneeling on the floor of the room with his box of things in front of him. She could just barely see what some of the contents were, but her eyes were focused elsewhere. On his fingers clamped around a book. On the slight- ever so slight- tremble of his body as he held the book in his hands.

Toriel knew what book that was. She had read it to her children in the wee hours of the night when they couldn’t sleep ( ~~when Chara had night terrors~~ -). It was a favourite of Asriel’s. The same softness and warmth came from that book just as it had from Asriel himself ( ~~her sweet and innocent~~ -).

But here and now she could tell it held the same hole of mixed love, guilt and regret as it had for her. The same grief cloaked them both. The same.

She could not hide it from herself any longer.

Her hand came to hide a barely heard gasp from her mouth as she pulled herself back and rested on the other side of the wall. Her body shook. Was this really the moment where she would come face-to-face with the deeds of her ( ~~ninth~~ ) child? Was this the very moment where she could no longer pretend that not only she but Sans were fine? She could barely hold herself together as she swallowed her tears and sobs in fear she may be discovered.

She was not naïve. She was not ignorant. She knew Sans had a brother. She knew just how highly Sans thought of him, how he doted upon him, how _proud_ he was of him. She heard him sing praises nearly every day they chatted between the door. Some part of her expected this. He would never have left his brother in Snowdin to stay with her. He would have spoken of him a hundred times over if he was-

And there it was. Her _mind_ did not want to even _think the words._ The ones that Sans must be repeating over and over in his head while she cannot even bear to imagine…

She heard a sob. It was strangled and quiet but it was there. Here she was, a few feet from him practically falling apart and she was _hiding_. Because of what? She did not want to face him? She feared what he may be thinking? She berated herself for being so selfish. He had just lost- he was _grieving_. And she could not spare the thought of what he must be going through because she was _scared_.

Her hands moved without her mind telling them to and wiped the few stray tears left that had not soaked into her fur. She had to be strong for him now. She would face what she must later but now…he needed her.

(Yes, he needed _someone_ …but it was not her. She would have to do)

So, she stepped into the room. He didn’t move though he must have heard her cries minutes before. He was still kneeling on the floor, but now he was clutching the book like it was a lifeline, hunched over it as if someone would take it unless he held it tight.

She took two careful steps towards him before she enveloped him in her arms. He stiffened as she pulled him off the floor and drew him into her, but he did not move. No, he seemed entirely too still. But she did not think that words would be any source of comfort for him, so she held him tight. She did not move to take the book, nor did she scramble to think of something to say. There was nothing more that she could do.

It took a while, but eventually the tightness of his body relaxed and he became limp in her arms. That was when he began to cry. He even reached out and clutched at her robe as if in an attempt to make her stay. She had no plans on leaving him any time soon, but she understood the gesture. Slowly and surely, she made sure he was well in her arms before she picked him up and moved towards the bed. He was crying silently but she felt his exhaustion. He would cry himself to sleep at this point, and she wanted to be sure he knew he was not alone when he woke up.

That was how they slept; mid-afternoon with no obligations and no expectations. Toriel stayed awake for a lot of the time, humming soft notes in reassurance to him and herself (and partially in remembrance of holding her children-). She could not sleep with the weight of the knowledge she now knew. She could not stop from thinking about what this all meant now. Pondering how she could even begin to help Sans as he grieved and with the responsibility of the child’s actions still weighing on her. She could not say enough to express her regret for their actions…

(Her thoughts taunted her. _You could have prevented this_. _If you had not been so blind- if you had waited- if you had- if you had-)_

She then limited her own thoughts to the next few hours. She began mentally making lists and preparations for how best to go about caring for Sans and to prepare herself for the inevitable discussion. She was aware how vulnerable Sans was being with her- even if he had not intended it at all and she wanted to respect that in any way she could. But she feared he would return to his nonchalant attitude once they were talking again. So, she planned on her actions within the next few days to prevent any regression or misunderstandings.

She was in mid-thought, mentally preparing a dinner for them when Sans began to stir. It had been at least a few hours that they had lain there, and she was wondering when he would awake, but now that he was waking up her mind stalled as to what to do. Her nerves began to twist in worry as he finally opened his eyes and took in their state.

He blinked twice. He contemplated the warmth of her arms that had encircled him. And then he looked up and met her worried expression.

The bleary-eyed sleepiness vanished in seconds. His mouth curved into a despairing grin and his eyes darted from hers.

“Uh…Tori?” he said so softly and with such genuine confusion and embarrassment.

(Was he embarrassed for crying? Was he embarrassed to wake up in her arms? Oh, dear skeleton…)

“Yes, Sans,” she said with equal amounts of quiet.

He was doing his best to look anywhere but at her. “You don’t have to…uh…you- “

“Sans,” she stopped him. “I know.”

Then, he couldn’t stop looking her in the eyes. For one of the first times since meeting him face-to-face she completely recognized the expressions running across his skull. A combination of exhaustion, hints of fear, and radiating _relief_.

“I am so sorry, Sans, for not noticing for, oh stars, _talking_ about all those lost without knowing…!” She broke off in realization. She could not look at him, though she was still holding him in her arms. “And I am, in part, to blame. I apologize, though I know it will never be enough.”

He didn’t shake his head but she could see his disagreement plain on his face. “Tori, you don’t have to apologize…you don’t have to do _anything_. It isn’t- it will never be your fault. Never.”

There were tears in her eyes. “I do not know how you can say those words to me. You are grieving- “ he flinched at the word but she did not know how else to go about saying it, “you are in pain but you can so easily forgive…”

“It’s not a big deal. It really isn’t.”

His answer did not surprise her, but somehow, she can hear her own guilt in his voice.

She squeezed her arms around him gently. “Just know that I am here for you. If you ever need to talk.”

They had already been taking the days slow, but the next few days were even slower. Despite Sans’ emotional breakdown, he immediately returned to his habit of not talking about it. He went to great lengths to not mention it at all. Even resorting to completely ignoring her at times when she tried to ask him how he’s doing. The results of this strategy were mixed.

The first few days are the hardest. They tried to stay separate, to not explore the other’s baggage, but they were so dependent on each other that became almost impossible.

It takes time, but Toriel is the first to break.

It’s when she inadvertently brings Sans to the place the children fell. A path she has walked many times, ever vigilant (even though now she desperately hoped no one ever fell again) for any human or monster to help. She wasn’t aware that Sans followed her there until she got there.

She didn’t startle, like she thought she would if she had imagined the scenario in her head. She simply sighed and held her hands in front of her, just taking in the sight of the sun on the golden flowers. Eventually, Sans stood beside her, though he had trouble looking at the flowers.

“I know this is unfair of me to ask,” she began, “but I think I need to say it.”

Beside her, Sans slipped his hand between hers. Both the action and the emotion behind it calmed her.

“I fear that the grief you and many others bear is my fault. Even though I know you would not blame me…I housed the child that _killed_ -” she broke off, unable to continue with the words still lodged in her throat and at the same time being admitted before them.

Sans does not speak immediately, and for that she is grateful. She knows what kind of response would come from him, from anyone who heard her say that aloud, but she wants it to be more than just immediately refuted.

“Tori,” he began. “I don’t know if it’s enough but…I _know_ that it isn’t at all your fault, and I hold no grudge against you for doing what you did.”

His words are kind, but she found herself frustrated anyway.

She continued to look at the flowers, for it made it easier to discuss without seeing his reaction. “I know you dislike talking about the human-” ( ~~when had she stopped calling them her child?~~ ) “-and everything involved, but I want to talk about it. I _need_ to talk about it. It hurts me to dance around the issue as foolish as we are seemingly doing. I know that that’s selfish of me to ask but- “

“No, you’re right,” Sans said without much tone at all. “It’s stupid of me to think I can avoid talking about it,” he paused and his hand gripped Toriel’s much more tightly. He seemed to argue with himself for a moment, like the next few words meant so much to say out loud. “Guess part of me still hopes this is all a bad dream and I can get away with it if I just eventually wake up.”

“It is not stupid,” Toriel glanced at him, noticing that he was staring at the flowers. “It is not stupid at all, Sans. Please do not view it in that way.”

When he looks up at her next she can see tears in his sockets, threatening to fall.

That is when he admits, “I wish I were dreaming.”

They cry together there that day.

\---

Nothing ever comes easy, and for Sans to admit the bottled-up emotions held inside his small frame was a seemingly unsurmountable goal. But Toriel was determined to do her part to help him, just as he continued to help her. They spent less time dancing around topics and sitting in silence and more time speaking truths to each other. It never really got any easier to speak in detail about the losses the Underground now faced, but Toriel was grateful for the honesty. She soaked up those conversations where she could express her regret out loud and with an audience that listened so well. In a lot of cases she talked to Sans and he would only respond with a few choice words here and there. It helped her to sort out herself; something she had not been able to do aloud in many years. It was her therapy.

For Sans, though, they had yet to discover the healthiest way for him to speak his mind. He was making a conscious effort to face difficult conversations, but that did not make them any easier.

She had the inkling that Sans needed to talk about his brother (something he had done so easily, so regularly that once she realized he hadn’t since he moved in she was taken aback) but she had not yet tried to breach that subject. It was a simple yet tricky question to bring up, so she had decided it was easier to not try to do so. This, however, was a thought that consistently weighed on her mind.

And, as it turned out, she did not have to bring it up at all.

They had been sitting contentedly by the fire, Toriel knitting a sweater (for Sans) and her skeleton friend reading a book. She eyed the cover for a while, not intentionally, it just happened to be where her eyes had rested while she remained deep in thought. Sans had looked up and noticed. She shook herself out of her thoughts.

“Sorry, dear,” she apologized. “I was not meaning to stare.”

Sans shrugged. “No big.”

And it could have been left at that. (It _had_ been left like that so many times before. Except-)

“Do you know this book?” he asked.

She set her needles down for a moment in surprise, but gathered herself quickly enough to respond, “Actually I think I do.”

He set the book down and she took a moment to really look at it. It was well-worn, the spine broken in and with some rips and stains. The book was perfectly ordinary. A small bunny adorned the cover with some fun, large print reading _Adventures with Fluffy Bunny_. A children’s book. One she remembered holding in his clutches weeks before.

“It was Papyrus’ favourite.”

She carefully returned to her knitting and waited. In these moments, ones where Sans was being open and honest about more than just his current day, she knew to wait. It often took a good amount of time for him to expand on something that could have been a throw away statement, but it was always worthwhile. She was learning that he liked being in control of the amount of information he shared, and in doing so he was careful and precise. But he needed to decide on his own time whether he was open to sharing or not. And sometimes he would take it back and they would go back to easy conversation, but that had to be decided by him. So, she waited.

“I just found it in the dump one day when he was still just a little tyke,” he continued and she watched as he picked at the book’s spine in thought. “He made me read it to him every night before bed. But he’d always be out by the first few pages so I had to make sure to continue where I left off the night before. I don’t think he ended up hearing the whole book until he was 12,” he said with a small laugh, a soft smile on his face as he dwelled in happy memories. “I still read it to him when he was ‘too old’ for it. He stopped asking me but I knew he liked it.”

He paused in thought.

“That sounds very kind of you, dear,” she said softly to bring him out of his thoughts. “I do believe this is the same book I read to my children…” And she wanted to say more but even that was just too much to say and her SOUL _hurt_.

But he _knew_ , and to her surprise, he stood and took one of her large hands into his oh-so small ones. He said nothing but that alone was enough. Her arms moved without her bidding and she pulled him into her lap, all cozied up together on the chair.

Once they were comfortable enough (and Toriel had set aside her knitting and Sans had tamed his flustered skull), she carefully took the book and opened it to the first page.

“Please read it to me?” she asked.

And he did. And that evening they traversed their equally nostalgic and bittersweet memories of the ones they had lost through the reading of a children’s book.

After that it became clear to them both how much they cherished the other. And yet neither of them wanted to define what they had. Then it would mean admitting something they didn’t feel like they deserved.

Toriel thought about it more than she liked. It wasn’t that she _disliked_ the notion, more so that it was difficult to admit it to herself. That her feelings towards her companion were more than that just as a friend.

 _God_ , it had been so long since she had these sorts of feelings. She felt like she had regressed centuries and she was now a young boss monster once more, budding and longing for love. Even now she blushed at the concept! How silly of her, a grown adult. And part of her hated that she was feeling these…feelings. It felt unfair to him and (though she loathed to admit) to herself to let the flimsy and giddy emotions like love become an addition to the multitude of other feelings that surrounded them both. They had so much to work through; so much to still admit to each other. She felt as though this would simply get in the way and divert their attention from healing.

But perhaps, a traitorous part of her spoke up, it could be a welcome part of healing? Perhaps that’s what they both needed?

Perhaps. But it seemed unfair to thrust this upon Sans. Maybe in time.

But the longer she waited, the more she desperately desired to spell it out to him. When they read aloud to each other, when they spent the early morning rays drowsily cuddling, when they calmed the other from nightmares, when her heart was so full and all she wanted to do was admit how deeply she was fond of him.

She was thinking more and more about how her feelings had slipped from like to love. And that desperate part of her begged her attention when they both felt low and they both felt unloved. But if she only just could tell him–!

So, it slipped one day. Right out of her mouth and into the open air. She had been thinking it for so long it was only a matter of time. But she had hoped it would have been in better circumstances. Better than amid a fumbling and exhausted and grief-stricken emotional breakdown that Sans had fallen into after a long day.

There wasn’t anything in particular that brought it about, not that there needed to be. He had simply become overwhelmed by the prospect of being without his only family. And in this state, he stated out-loud in a gasping and grieving voice, “he was the only one who could stand to love me and now he’s gone and I have nothing left–!“

That was when it burst unbidden from her mouth.

“ _I_ love you,” with such conviction that she herself was reeling from the impact of her own words.

His crying fit would stop for no one, but the words hung in the air between them, both seated on the floor with Sans curled into a heap and Toriel leaning over him, a hair’s breath away. His sobs filled the air but he looked up at her with some recognition and shock in his eyes instead of overwhelming despair.

Part of her was shaken from her own admission, but the other part of her, the one that believed exactly what she had said, was quick to hold her ground. She gripped Sans’ small wrists with her large warm ones and said again, “I love you.”

There was a minute shake of his head that she wasn’t sure he even meant to make but she responded anyway.

“I love you, Sans. You will not be left alone.”

Tears continued to fall from his sockets but she did not care as she pulled him off the floor and into her arms and with courage and gall she didn’t know she had she pulled his skull to her lips and kissed him on the teeth.

“I _love_ you.”

“Why?” he managed through an exhausted breath.

“Because you are my skeleton and while we both share misery, we can share love too.”

With that he buried his head into her chest and continued to weep in her arms, though she was unsure if it was just the shock of it all now.

It came later, but it was nonetheless emotional than when she had said it.

She had cleaned him up for bed and while he was drained and limp, she pulled him into bed and held him close to her.

His phalanges were tangled in her fur and his body felt weak but he spoke.

“I love you too, Tori.”

Toriel didn’t know the true depths of Sans’ SOUL, she didn’t know the struggles of the RESETs or the feeling of helplessness that had encompassed his entire being, but she did know that he was broken in similar places as her. She knew that he was hanging on to the same thread she held. And she knew in the very depths of her SOUL that they could and would be each others strength in the coming days. Though she didn’t know how fragile her very existence was, she felt with great hope that despite it all, they would be okay.

And Sans thought, perhaps this ending would be alright for them. He could hold on, for her.


End file.
